


Killing Me Softly

by HeichouTheTitan



Series: Colors [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: 2ollux ii2 mean, Albino Karkat Vantas, Celebrity!Gamzee, Cuz Karkat with white hair is my cup of tea, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Gamzee needs a hug, Gen, Humanstuck, I want pale smut but I can't write it, Kanaya is da BOMB, Karkat Swearing, M/M, Mean Sollux, Multi, No Smut, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Rape/Non-con, Suicide Attempt, pale gamkar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeichouTheTitan/pseuds/HeichouTheTitan
Summary: Your name is GAMZEE MAKARA, and you're a WORLD FAMOUS CELEBRITY. You're known for your SICK BEATS and MIRACULOUS VOICE. Your DAD is a weird looking man always insisting on you calling him GOATDAD, making you wonder HOW IN HELL you were actually raised. You like to occupy yourself with BAKING, CIRCUS ARTS and WALL PAINTINGS. A few months ago you went through HELL because of a STALKER, and this has rendered your life into a CATCH 22 OF DEPRESSION AND DRUG ABUSE. The VOICE will not go away, and you have found THE MOTHERFUCKING SOLUTION.You are about to END your problems.





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> My brain gave birth to this. Blame it, not me.
> 
> Disclaimer: Do I look like Andrew Hussie? Or whoever made the beautiful song/title that is the title of this fic?
> 
> -Wait, really? Why, thank you. Still not mine though.

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you’re tired of everything.

Maybe you should introduce yourself. But what good does it make to introduce yourself when you’re seconds from dying, from jumping, from falling and splattering against the ground in a big, red splotch? Because that is what’s going to happen.

It’s night.

You look down the ledge, thinking that if you let go then maybe, maybe he will shut up. That voice, taunting you and telling you that everything was your fault, that you deserved what happened, that you liked it just as much as he told you you did. You clutch the railing harder, eyes following the many cars driving past down there. 

_(Whore. Filthy, disgusting, one dollar whore)_.

A deep breath. You gotta collect your thoughts, gotta be clear when it happens. Gotta show em’ that you still can, even though you’re dying. You close your eyes, hands letting go of the railing as the wind plays with your hair. You can only imagine what it looks like to others. Crazy? Beautiful? You don’t know. You don’t motherfucking care. 

Surprisingly, there are no tears as you lift your foot, ready for whatever pain that is to come. Ready, you gotta keep ready, no time to chicken out, no time- A girl screams behind you. 

”What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing?!” roars a pissed off tone, running steps coming towards you. And then someone collides with your side, knocking you away from the edge. 

The impact to the ground knocks the air outta your lungs, and there’s something heavy on your chest, something swearing. After the shock and disappointment you feel panic rising in your chest, because that’s a person, that’s a person that’s touching you and talking to you and existing within the space that you have claimed for yourself. You push him off you, eyes wide with fear. He curses even more.

_(You couldn’t even kill yourself. Your courage is gone. You’re nothing!)_

He’s small. Much smaller than you expected him to be, honestly, frail-looking with pale skin and white, unruly hair and big ass eyebrows. He’s wearing dark clothes that clashes with his pale skin so badly that it almost hurts even _your_ eyes. But the most captivating thing with him is his eyes. Miraculous red glares at you through thick, white lashes, the color of his very blood being the only pigment in his body strong enough to show.

”What the hell were you doing?! Do I look like I want to babysit some stupid, suicidal bastard because of what, your girlfriend broke up with you? You lost your job? A parent? Well guess what, loser, you can’t just go off yourself and traumatize some poor bastard driving by! Do you even realize what this is?! It’s life, you imbecile! This is not a fucking video game! You don’t have any extra fucking lives!”

A sob racks through your chest without permission, and he just kinda stops and stares at you. 

”I couldn’t even motherfucking kill myself… I can’t…” you stare through him, through everything. It hurts.

”Took a long time… Gotta get the brave up, ya know? And you just…” A bitter smile on your lips, and the next words are like poison on your tongue. ”saved me.”

_(Maybe he thought you were a person. An actual, normal person. Not the perverse, gullible freak you actually are. You wanted death. But did you deserve it? Of course not! You sicken me.)_

He looks at you with a weird expression on his face.

”Hey, man, you actually look… ” he stops himself, hesitantly raising a hand as if to stroke your cheek. You flinch away before he can touch you, though, not wanting him to shatter the shell that is holding together your resolution and last wish. Tears fill your eyes. You want to feel it, a heartbeat, warmth, skin. But you can’t. No, no brother will ever touch you again. No sister, either.

”Who did this to you?”

You stop working altogether. 

”What?”

  
”Did someone hurt you? Your face is all messed up dude, those scars… And what the hell, you don’t just push people off you like that if you’re not fucking scared or something!” He puffs out his little chest, looking around him as if trying to find who has done this to you.

You guess that your eyes are giant, purple saucers by now, mouth open as you stare at him, and black locks whipping in the wind. This little motherfucker is being kind to you, for what? For being broken? Your eyes are stinging when you put your head in your hands, entire body trembling and shaking with tears and sobs. 

”Oh fuck, don’t cry… I don’t know how to… Fuck it. NEP! KAN! ROSE! SO- Wait, not you, Sollux, you’ll only make it worse with your ugly face. Help me, he’s crying!”

There are more footsteps, and then you’re suddenly being dragged into a soft bosom, someone stroking your hair and telling you it’s gonna be alright. You’re too shaken to care that she’s touching you, and you shake your head when she tells you, once again, that it’s going to be okay.

  
”N-no, it’s not gonna… I-I can’t do this anymore, f-f-fuck, what if he… w-what if he does it a-again…? They couldn’t… I-I can’t…” your throat is hurting, and you scrunch your eyes closed as you drag whoever this woman is closer, desperately anchoring yourself by her soft words. A heartbeat. Skin. _Warmth._

You cry harder.

”Shh, take it easy… It’s alright. We got you, okay? It’s alright now. No one’s going to harm you. Can you tell me your name?”

Your chest is hurting by now, and you continue to cling to her, ignoring the glances and whispers of the people that walk past.

  
”G-Gamzee… Gamzee M-Makara…”

You know they recognize your name when you hear gasps and feel the person you’re hugging stiffen uncomfortably. What motherfucker wouldn’t? It’s been on papers all over the country, in every state, countless of articles and pictures explaining in all too much detail about the hell you’ve gone through. Although they didn’t know everything, almost all suspicions had been right. 

_(But I do. I know what kind of_ thing _you are. Filthy. Stained.)_

”Stop… stop saying that… I didn’t ask for this…” you mumble weakly.

Fingers treading through your hair. She hums, so low that it kinda rumbles in her chest. It calms you, a little. Your breathing goes from hysterical and pained to just breathing, in and out. Someone is trying to catch a cab nearby. A woman is shouting angrily somewhere far away, and there’s a car alarm blaring in the distance. For a moment you just listen to the many sounds of New York City.

It hurts to know what you’re reduced to. You went from a young, successful singer to _nothing_ after just a few days at his care. You never cared much for security or stalkers, and now you’re paying the motherfucking price. 

”Please… Let me…” _Die._ ”I-I can’t motherfucking do this…”

There’s an unpleased grunt at that, coming from behind you.

”Do we look like we’re gonna do that, idiot? Now stop sniffling into Kanaya’s boobs, she has a fucking girlfriend. We’re gonna catch the cab, and you’re gonna crash at mine and Equius’ place. Then we’ll deal with whatever emotional shit you’re in tomorrow.”

You reluctantly let go of this Kanaya person, giving her an apologetic look. You’re too tired to smile. Her jade eyes twinkle with pity, and you’re thankful she hasn’t pushed you away. Although you don’t know her, and all-

Your eyes widen in horror for a second time, and you quickly scoot away from her warmth. You’re shaking when you stand up, and you lean a little against the railing that you had clutched in determination just minutes ago. You gotta get home. You can’t trust these strangers, and you definitely need to go home. What if they’re more rabid fans? What if they’re more stalkers, killers, rapists? You shudder.

The streets aren’t much safer at this time of the night, either, but you’ll rather take that since you don’t have any money on you to take the bus.   
”N-no, I’ll go home. I’ll…” you drag your hand through your hair, shaking your head and trying to get at least a resemblance of a shell to hide behind. You smile, rubbing at your nose. ”I’ll get home. It’s okay, fuck, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Your voice is shaking, and no one seems fooled. You close your eyes, rubbing at them as if to rid them from the sights you’ve seen. Your head is hurting.

”I got a cab- Wait, ith he okay? He lookth like he’th gonna…”

 

As you fall, face first onto the ground, the last thing you can think is that red is a really pretty eye color.


	2. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Equius is introduced! And someone else :o)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell am I writing

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and there’s currently a world-famous celebrity laying on your bed, drooling all over your pillows and sometimes whimpering in his sleep.

You we’re on a walk home with some of your friends, a little tipsy after a night out in some of the many clubs, when Nepeta saw some fucker trying to off himself by jumping off the bridge. 

(You found it strangely beautiful. His black locks and baggy clothes whipping in the wind, and the way he stood at that edge, hands out, as if he was ready for anything the world could throw at him. You know all too well, that feeling you get when you think that your life is at end. The acceptance. The calm. It makes everything seem a little better, even just for a few seconds.)

She screamed, her bright blue hijab almost falling off as she started running towards the man, trying to stop him. You realized that she wouldn’t make it in time, and then you ran the fastest you could, screaming at the man. He stiffened and took a step back in shock, probably, and then you jumped over the rail, narrowly avoiding a definite death sentence and throwing yourself at him. 

His tall ass fell over the fence, taking you with him, and then you just laid there for a moment, trying to recall what had just happened. You swore. He panicked and pushed you off. He seemed terrified, disappointed and tired, all at the same time, and you chastised him for being a fucking idiot, told him that life’s no game and that he’ll only live once, bla bla bla. The same thing others had told you every time you tried to slit your wrists.

Then you noticed how… (well, there’s not a better fucking word, is it), _broken_ he seemed. Like if someone had taken him and used him until the last crack of a shell and then just thrown him away.

You’d asked him what was up. He talked, then started crying. You panicked while Kanaya and Rose tried to soothe him. Then he tried to regain his bearings, failing miserably and falling face first into the fucking ground out of exhaustion. I hope it hurt, since Sollux and I were the ones forced to haul his unconscious ass into the cab. And then _pay_ for the entire thing. Fucking idiot.

”Karkat, what is the meaning of this man sleeping upon your bed? This is exponentially bad, even for a being of your low social standings.”

You jump out of your skin when you hear your friend’s deep voice breathing up your neck.

  
”JESUS F-” Gamzee makes a noise, and you decide to tone it down a notch, ”fffuck, Eq! Don’t sneak up like that!”

Equius has the decency to look a little more sweaty. 

”I-I am sorry, low class, but I am not sure that we can be completely comfortable having a _stranger_ in our home.”

You get what he’s jabbing at, and even though you understand it a little you’re not really in the mood for his bullshit right now.

”Oh shut your flap, _middle class_ , he needed some fucking help. You can’t just leave some suicidal, fucking _depressing_ juggalo-thing all to himself. He was going to off himself, for fuck’s sake!”

Gamzee groans, and you drag the big, sweaty lump of brony that you call roommate into the kitchen so that you won't wake him. When you let go, Equius kind of flips his brown hair over one shoulder and glare at you, and with a shudder you’re reminded of just how scary this kind, giant asshole can be when he’s ”upset”. Even with a pink t-shirt with lots of animated ponies and the text ”Friendship” in cursive style through it all.

”You came home in the middle of the night, companioned by this strange, unconscious man and interrupting mine and Meulin’s story time, scaring her into believing he was dead by not denying it when she asked. Quite frankly, I am asking you if you care to explain some unclear facts about this ’suicidal, depressing juggalo’, and what he is doing in the same apartment as me and my daughter unannounced?”

You roll your eyes at the obvious outtake of swearwords from that quote, and then stiffen in realization. Shit, you live with a fucking kid. You had almost forgotten that she existed, if you’re completely honest with yourself. Equius had been one of the ones unfortunate enough to get the ”I’m pregnant, and I’ve only slept with you”-talk when he was a teenager. At fifteen he’d gotten a daughter to care for all by himself, since her mother didn’t care much for it and his parents gave up on him, and had to learn how to change diapers and kiss boo-boo’s instead of living out his youth days like a normal person. Now he was twenty one, with a six-year old kiddie on his neck and a shitload of work to do. _He_ you can screw over multiple times, he probably won’t even fucking notice it, the weird fucker, but his kid? Oh man.

And you had dragged a practically dead stranger onto the doorstep and scared the shit out of his fucking daughter. Good going Karkat. Way to write your own death sentence. 

”Uh, well, Zahhak, it’s a pretty weird story, ahahah… hah…”

He raises an eyebrow. You take a deep breath.

”Okay, you absolute fucking douche taco! Well, he’s been through some stuff, obviously, and tried to off himself at the… Whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called bridge, and that’s when I kind of dramatically knocked him away from the edge and saved his sorry hide. Then we talked and he broke down and you know how I am with crying people, I start bawling myself after a while if nobody’s helping me but thank god for Rose and Kanaya, those raging lesbians have saved _my_ sorry hide more than a few times, and then he calmed down but he kept pushing people away and- Ugh, whatever, the fucking point is that he’s Gamzee Makara and he’s been through hell and I somehow, a little, feel inclined to take care of him.”

You glare at him through your bangs.

  
”Happy?”

Dark blue eyes scrutinize you.

”Quite the opposite. But I now understand your actions… Which… Actually makes it better. Good job, low class.”

You nod, relieved, but just then there’s a scream coming from your bedroom. It sounds hoarse and panicked and out of breath, and then there’s another, shriller scream that accompanies it. You and Equius share a look before you sprint towards your room. 

The sight that meets you when you throw the door open is not the bloody, terrible war-scene that you had made up in your head under those few seconds it took to get there. There’s a man laying halfway out of the bed with sheets tangled in his legs and a six year old laying sprawled across him and tickling his sides until he honks for breath. Like, literally honks. Meulin is giggling like crazy and Gamzee looks like he’s dying from lack of oxygen. 

Equius let’s out a sigh of relief before he squares his shoulders, a questioning grunt making the girl on the bed look up and almost succeed in not looking like the little vixen she is. The black haired man relaxes as the attack stops, panting heavily as Equius gives his daughter the most parent-y look you have seen in your life. And you’ve lived with Kankri for your entire fucking childhood, so that’s saying something.

Just as he opens his mouth to, I don’t know, tell her to get off of the poor man and leave him alone, Gamzee suddenly bends his back in some inhuman way and starts to tickle the girl back. She howls in laughter, and you can barely believe that the man sitting (uh… Laying? Yoga-ing? Fuck it.) there with that wide smile is the same man that you picked up from the bridge just last night, the one who looked so broken and hurt. Right now he’s laughing at the way Meulin wriggles and kicks, and even when he gets a foot in the face he doesn’t stop. He seems happy. Genuinely happy.

What the fuck.

You narrow your eyes at him, scrutinizing the way his eyes twinkle and fingers dance as they try to pry another giggle out of the child. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t tangled himself in her long, unruly hair. Or she in his. But if you’re honest… It looks unusually tidy. Like she’s brushed it or something. But that’s ridiculous, Meulin would never let a brush even near her hair. 

Then you turn to Equius, but he only stands there and looks at the scene with a smile that you can’t quite fit with the situation. And that’s when you remember that Meulin is normally a quiet, stoic child. She took the rejection of her mother very hard, you think, you’re not good at all that psychology shit. And you feel like an ass for not remembering that either.

Then a knee hits him in a very special spot with a crunching sound, and his face goes from laughter to agony in a matter of milliseconds. Both you and Equius flinch at the sound, and then a very apologetic Meulin is dragged away by the scruff of her neck by an equally apologetic Equius, it’s almost like you could hurl.

And then you’re left alone with Gamzee.

 

What a weird thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *covers crotch* That was painful to /write/… Ouch. Poor Gamzee. I’m sorry, man.


	3. Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children never cease to make Gamzee smile, especially not when they're as sweet as this little sis!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while. 
> 
> Whelp, here you go!

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you’re awoken by a random little girl staring at you like you were a- well, a celebrity. 

You smile at the miraculous innocence in her eyes. You ask her name. You learn that it’s Meowlin. She looks like she’s six, maybe even seven, and she has long as hell hair with a lot of sweet-ass motherfucking swirls in it. You tell her as much, minus the swearing, because you’re not a complete douche-waffle as many think. Kids don’t need all that motherfucking negativity in their lives. 

She practically beams at you for that, tells you to wait and then runs off to just a few seconds later come back to your confused self with a hairbrush of pink plastic, asking you to help her brush it.

It isn’t until then you notice the tangles and knots, and you nod, seating yourself cross-legged on the bed and goad her to sit in front of you. You take a knot of hair and start to gently tug it free from it’s tangle, distracting her from the pain with stories of goats with fins and and a brave girl with a cat-tail and the tales about the Chuckle Voodoos, the voices that allow you to speak in people’s minds. She’s so enamored in the story that she doesn’t notice that you’re done, and when you tell her she grins a predator’s grin and tackle-tickles you, surprising you enough to make you screech and try to tickle back.

When two people rush into the room you’ve already given up, breath hitching in your throat as you try not to die because you ain’t breathing like a person motherfucking should. And then someone makes a grumbling noise in their throat, and both you and her look to the tall, strong-looking man that gives you both such an solemn look that you just stare, shivers going down your spine as you stare at his arms. 

If he wanted to, he could do so many bad things.

You shoot the thought aside and attack Meowlin when she’s not on her guard, her giggles and smiles taking away some of the anxiety. You smile right back, and then she starts kicking and kicking and-

_Crunch._

And if you’re to be completely honest, getting hit in the nuts isn’t really a thing you like all that much, miracles and all. You grimace, biting your lip and, with all your mind power, force yourself not to swear. No swearing to the kiddies. No swearing-

  
”Motherfuck…” you groan, hands darting to cup at the sore spot as Meowlin get’s physically lifted off of you, apologies in two different voices mixing as they walk out in the hall. Then there’s you. And the white haired guy.

You uncurl from your fetal position and give him a wary look.

  
”Who are you, and why am I at this weird ass place?”

He raises a pale eyebrow at you, but doesn’t answer, and you narrow your eyes even further.

”Brother, I ain’t playing these games.”

He heaves a gruff-sounding ”For fuck’s sake”, and walks out of the room, slamming the door closed while you’re left even more confused. What did he… Why wouldn’t he answer you?

You stiffen in fear, mentally checking yourself over for any signs pain other than the throbbing in your groin. Did that motherfucker do something? Did he… You clutch your head in your hands, weaving your fingers into your hair as you try to remember last night. Let’s not think of it. No, it didn’t happen. You’re alright. You’re gone from that now. 

A strangled sound leaves your throat. Please, please don’t let it be like last time.

_(Missed me?)_

You close your eyes, slouching down onto the mattress. He’s back.

Why would the miraculous god treat you like this?

_(Why wouldn’t he? You have no place in the world.)_

You sigh. At least now you’re alone. You can-

”IT’S BREAKFAST, NOOKSUCKERS!”

You furrow your brows. What is a motherfucking nook? Nook and cranny… Is he telling you that you suck corners?

Small feet stomp past the door, followed by heavier, louder ones, and then there’s sounds of utensils scraping against plates as the scent of grilled sandwiches sneaks into the room. Your stomach rumble, and suddenly you realize how hungry you are. 

That’s the bad thing with drugs. They make you forget things you hate, yes, but also simple things as eating and what in the motherfucking hell happened last night. You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you try to work out what might’ve all up and gone on. Maybe you were found somewhere? That would mean that that scrawny little dude had to haul your worthless corpse to his apartment… 

You shake your head. That can’t be it. He looked at you before, as if expecting something… But it didn’t quite happen, cuz’ the man just walked off and a few minutes later it was breakfast time. You wonder what he expected.

_(Something dirty.)_

”Shut up.” you tell him, but it’s weak, your voice small and uncertain. He just snickers, the nasal sound echoing through your head, and then he’s gone. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

There wasn’t enough motherfucking evidence, they told you. The blood and hair and bruises and tears wasn’t _enough_. He was still out there, plotting, planning, waiting. And you don’t want to be around when that motherfucker get to his business.

You sniffle, shaking your head. No, no time for brooding right now. Just calm. That white haired motherfucker seemed all brawl no harm, although you can’t be completely sure. Your head is still a little fuzzy, probably the only reason you’re not crawling on the walls and begging for drugs. You pat yourself down, searching for something, and- Aha! You pull your phone out of your back pocket. 

Miracles, you say. Motherfucking miracles.

A swift click and the screen lights up, the big touch-screen of your trusty samsung (there’s a few cracks here and there, but that only makes it all the more personal) and when the initial PIN code and unlocking is done you get a few seconds of calm before you get hundreds upon hundreds of notifications. Twitter is basically exploding with worried messages, and tumblr isn’t fairing much better. Twenty missed calls. One from Kurloz, your brother (and he’s mute, so what the motherfuck?) , four from his boyfriend Kankri, four from yo manager Aradia and… You swallow audibly, staring at your screen. 

Eleven missed calls from Goatdad. 

Shit.

You’re nowhere near high enough for this shit. He’s gonna be mad at you, as mad as a motherfucker can be, and although you know it’s gonna be worry more than anything, you still don’t want that. And Aradia’s probably mad, too. A sister’s gonna furrow her eyebrows and give you a look that you deserve so badly for being so stupid. But you can’t help how your brain have gotten by now, some things just don’t filter.

And, god, the fans. 

As you scroll through twitter you see tons of sad emojis and angry exclamation marks. Pictures of you crying on the ground, held by a nice-looking woman you barely remember meeting. Pictures of you staring down at the road underneath the bridge, looking ready to jump. You furrow your brows and scroll through some more pictures, and then your eyes glue to a video titled ”holy shiit he saevd him, omgfg!!! im like ”motherfucekn” thank u whitey <3 <3”

You press the play button.

A mess of white and black jumping over the fence, leaping towards you and knocking you back to the right side of the fence. And then a few seconds of when he’s yelling, angry that you would try and take your own life for some reason.

You don’t notice that your eyes are wet until a pillow hits the side of your face and smears it all over your cheek. You blink in confusion.

”Oh my god, stop fucking crying! Here I am, making food and taking you in like a fucking lunatic- Wait, no, you’re the fucking lunatic, you weird ass piece of shit! What the fuck are you-”

You leap across the bed, catching his small form in a hug. He helped you! You, of all people. Helped… He helped you… He’s silent for a moment, stiff as a board, and then he tentatively pats your back.

”Uh… Fuck, I don’t know, there there? Don’t cry, what the hell… Stop spreading your snot on my shoulder, you fucking idiot.”

You grin wide and rub your nose against his sweater deliberately. He hits you in the back. You ignore it.

”You’re a motherfucking miracle-bro, sent from the gods and the almighty messiah! Motherfucker, am I glad to all up and meet such a guy like you!”

It might be wonder for him saving you. It might be something else. But, this guy just motherfucking helped you while everyone else just looked, even though he didn’t all up an’ know a motherfucker, and that means something, right? He was nice to you, even though you were a fucking mess. Hell, you _are_ a fucking mess. You sigh into his white hair and just kind of sag against him.

He smells nice.

( _Okay, woah, that’s just creepy._ )

”Shut up” you growl, furrowing your brows. Your small, pale bro stiffens in your arms. Hi soothing pats stops.

”Fucking excuse you?!”

You sniffle.

”He wouldn’t shut the motherfuck up, so I fucking silenced that blasphemous motherfucker.”

( _Blasphemous? Says the guy who couldn’t defend himself from a simple assault._ )

You bury your nose deeper in his hair, fingers digging into his back from the force of your grip. You whine, trembling and weak and a motherfucking disgrace. Yes, he’s right.

”…motherfucking disgrace… blasphemous… I should… yes, quiet, I know…”

The white haired guy’s grip on you hardens. 

”Okay.” he says, ”Whoever the fuck, stop saying whatever the fuck; He’s not a disgrace, except for all of human kind, but that’s not fucking ill-meant, that’s a fucking compliment. So shut your shit-spewing piehole and stop being annoying.”

( _What?_ )

”Yeah, you fucking heard me, shut the fuck up! We’re gonna get some disgusting, cheesy sandwich now, if his majesty will fucking excuse us. C’mere, Mr… No, fuck you, you’re Gamzee now. You’re such a fucking mess that you’re degraded from titles.”

You smile, the voice’s angered chatter in the back of your head nothing compared to the miracle you have in front of you. He lets go, takes your wrist and helps you out of the bed. He glares at you with those red eyes of his, and you smile even wider.

”What.”

”Your name, lil dude?”

He looks hesitant for a moment, blinking confusedly a few times before his face arranges itself into it’s usual scowl. Cute.

”Karkat. Karkat Vantas.”

”Yo, Karbro?”

He gives you an unimpressed look. ”What?”

”I have to give you my motherfucking thanks, brother.”

His pale skin turns beet-red, and he quickly looks away. 

”Whatever, shut the fuck up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4ello! 
> 
> W4at to do, w4at to do… Smile a little? Eat a sandwic4? 4ate me four t4is ridiculous writing quirk I 4ave come up wit4? I am t4e disgrace of 4umanity, it is me.


	4. Violet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u rllr think i was gonna spoil, hmmmm????
> 
> *rlly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently that christmas carol script I made was a complete failure. Oh, well. 
> 
> 9kay, just t9 make Kankri happy: #triggers #Equius #fucky9urtriggerwarningskankri #6luh

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and when you walk in on someone talking to their imaginary friend, you usually just walk the fuck away and leave them to their insanity. 

But when you’re being positively _crushed_ by the person talking to their imaginary friend, you kind of have to calm their tits the fuck down and maybe soothe their huge, raging need-affection-from-another-human-being boner. Because however stupid and wrecked you normally call yourself, this guy is ten times _worse_. And he’s stronger than you, so you’re in no position to wait until your ribs fucking crack from the sheer pressure his useless self is unintentionally putting there. 

Someone really needs to teach this guy how to fucking hug, jesus christ. 

He’s currently sitting by your kitchen table, playing with the strings of cheese that’s attached to his sandwich and smiling gleefully as he does so. You grimace. Someone needs to teach him _everything_ , it seems. Untied shoes, no manners, hugs like a lunatic, _looks_ like a lunatic, _is a fucking lunatic_.

Honestly, why did you think taking him to your apartment was a good idea?

You take a bite out of your own sandwich, savoring in the taste of melted cheese and warm tomatoes. You don’t really know what the fuck is up with this guy, but if you’re to trust the newspapers and forums he was abducted by a crazy fan and tortured for their stupid glub-fucking amusement. Toyed with like the raging dildo of the universe which every deity seems todeem appropriate to shove up your pale ass whenever you actually manage to have a good fucking time for once. 

Your eyes flick towards the scars on his face, and the other ones you noticed on his arms earlier when he shrugged of his jacket. Like, not actual fucking self harm scars, but as if some giant fucking assholey cat had used him as a scratching post. They criss-cross over his arms, white and marring and _ugly_ , and your bloodpusher, _heart_ , whatever, slaps you in the face with more pity than you thought possible because _whatever the fuck_ really happened to this guy?

Gamzee looks gleeful now, but that’s just because he’s stupid as all shit. Maybe her doesn’t realize the extent of his injuries, or some silly, miracle-ish idea like that. His head is full of fucking holes. He’s stupid. And scared. So he hides behind the happy feels and lets them steer for as long as possible.

Not that you’re Rose or anything, but that seems pretty much true.

The sound of a scratchy voice singing the lyrics of Volatile Times (Good song.) almost makes you jump out of your seat, and you stare at the lunatic clown you’ve let into your home as he reaches into his pocket, fully expecting him to whip out a gun or something. 

Instead he takes out an old samsung (You’re not Eridan or anything, but what is this, 2011?) and turns it to check the screen. Then he pales, the little color that had managed to get onto his face washed away like the paint in one of Jade’s grandpa’s old ’Babes’. (Old, sun-damaged photos of models in suggestive poses. Something was seriously wrong with that man.) 

He quickly puts the phone down on the table, hand trembling. It perks your interest.

”Aren’t you gonna answer that?” you say, mouth full of sandwich. 

Gamzee shakes his head. 

You reach out and pick it up, looking at the caller ID. It says DaD!!! :o), with a picture of a goat wearing a bow tie and a tophat. You shoot Gamzee a look before pressing the answer button. He gasps, staring at you like he was a muggleborn you just betrayed him to a death eater or some shit. (Oh god you’re such a _nerd_ )

”Hello.”

Someone, whoever it is (Totally not Gamzee’s fucking dad) takes a deep breath into the phone.

”Wow”, you comment, ”That sounded fucking disgusting.”

_”Shut the MOTHERFUCK up. Where’s my son?!”_  


Well, explains the casual use of motherfucker in daily conversations. 

”Calm your fucking tits, mother bear, he’s with me. And eating my entire fucking fridge.”

Gamzee gives you a worried look, but you just roll your eyes and mouth ”Not serious” in his general direction so he will calm down.

_”And who are you, may I ask?_

”A dangerous, ten foot marine soldier with a taste for shitty singers and the huge mess that appears to be their lives. I also have a unicorn in my fucking living room.”

Partly true. You’re like, half that size. And you’re terribly adorabloodthirsty. And you _do_ have a unicorn in your living room. Just not a real one.

The purple eyed mess perks up at the thought of a magical being somewhere in the apartment, and you wave him off to the living room. There, in all it’s glory, stands the robotic project Sweat McBrony made to impress his daughter on her fifth birthday. It’s basically just a pile of junk that neighs if you press a button and that’s big enough for a person to sit on if they don’t sit on the sofa like normal people. It has soulless, black eyes though, which is the reason you rather sit in your room watching rom-coms on your computer. 

Yes, you watch rom-coms. They are superior to any other genre of movie ever. _Fuck you_.

His eyes widen when he sees it, and he immediately walks over to pet it’s muzzle and touch it’s horn. You roll your eyes.

_”I’m not in the mood for jokes, young man.”_

”Too bad, I’m fucking full of them” you sigh, ”My name’s Karkat Vantas, and no, before you ask, I have not kidnapped your giant baby. I took him to my apartment since he was trying to off himself and then sniffled out his deepest regrets into my friend’s boobs. I even let him sleep in my bed, and do you know how fucking uncomfortable my couch is? Ever tried sleeping on a spike mat?”

Wow, way to sound like a bag of dicks, Karkat.

There is a relieved sound at the other end of the phone, and then the man ask if he can come over to get him off your hands. You hesitantly tell him where your place is located, and then he hangs up.

Gamzee clings to the unicorn like a big child, petting the soft, pink mane as he look at you like you are a super hero or something.

”Brother, you’re a brave motherfucker.”

You grimace, tossing the phone towards him (He catches it easily, the fucker), and then you sit down next to the demon unicorn and it’s unbalanced rider.

”Yeah, he’s on his way.”

The tall man suddenly seems small when he leans down to rest his head against your shoulder. 

”I don’t wanna get my brave on to meet him, pale bro.”

You pet his head. 

_Try to change the subject, you’re too tired to deal with this shit._

As the asshole you are, you listen to the small voice in your head. It’s right. Taking care of this guy is like trying to handle twenty four babies at the same time without any of them getting hurt or sad. Not that you would ever do such a task willingly. Babies are fucking disgusting. 

”You know, it’s a genetic condition.”

He turns towards you, purple eyes wide.

”What is?”

”My skin. And the eyes. And the hair. Basically my entire me. Like with your eyes? Not many people have purple eyes.”

”Nah, brother. You’re right. I’ve never actually seen a motherfucker with as much pretty white and red on as you. What’s it called? You know, when a brother is all pale like this? Does it even have a motherfucking name? Unload the facts unto me, bro.”

His tanned hand comes up to rub your cheek, and you almost melt into a puddle of goo from that innocent touch. You’re not used to people touching you like this.

”I-it’s albinism. You know? Albino?”

Gamzee gives you a blank look. You sigh.

”No pigment in the body? Pale as fuck? Sunshine hates me?”

He smiles tentatively.

”Like that rabbit in dad’s yard?”

You furrow your brows. Did he just compare you to a fucking rabbit? Oh my god, what is wrong with this guy?! Like, you know he didn’t mean to be rude, but how can one person really be this stupid? It’s like the universe was making people and wondered how one with a negative IQ would interact with the rest of the spongesucking fuckwits that you call society. You decide to not be a dick about it and ask outright why he is such a fucking idiot, and instead play along.

”Yeah… Like the rabbit. It had red eyes, right?”

”Yeah man, fucking miraculous red.”

Luckily you’re saved from having to say anything more by someone knocking at the door. You pat his head one more time, then hurry out of the room. Being with a creepy person is rather fucking… Creepy? Yeah, you get it. 

You open the door with your usual frown in place.

”Took you fucking long enough-”

In bursts Jade, quickly hugging you tight and kissing your forehead before you can even complain about it. (”HEEY KITKAT! How have you been?! It’s been so long, and how’s work? Still that meanie manager?? Where’s Gamzee??? I heard about it, and I just felt so bad for the poor guy, blah blah bluh”)Then comes Sollux, much more reserved (”Hey fuckatthh”) , and RoseKanaya (They’re basically one person), with a single, eerily synchronized nod your way.

”Good day, Karkat. Would you mind if we went to see your guest? We want to reassure ourselves that he isn’t in the same bad place that he was yesterday.” Rose says, elegant as always.

You glare at them some, then point to the door.

”Get the fuck out, nooklickers. You’re too many. And no, Jade, you weren’t even there, what the fuck kind of business could you have with him?!”

Jade shoulders her way into your apartment despite your protests and squeals in delight when she sees Gamzee. Immediately she’s at his side, prodding and asking, and you can see the poor fuck practically _radiating_ discomfort and awkwardness as he clumsily tries to answer everything she’s saying. Sollux rolls his eyes and RoseKanaya sighs, sounding about as tired as you feel.

You massage the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, silently counting to ten. Kanaya puts a hand on your shoulder.

”I Apologize For This, But She Saw A Video Online And We Only Just Met Her In The Stairs. We Did Not Know That She Would Handle The Matter So Poorly.”

We, we, waahh. You open your eyes to glare at her, then shrug off her hand and turn around to save Gamzee’s stupid ass from being devoured by a Doggily excited Jade. (A term you got from Dave, but if he finds out you’re using it he won’t ever let it go.)

”Alright, assmunch, let the poor bastard be.”

Gamzee flinches and quickly turns away from Jade to face you. Jade just sits there and pout, her lower lip jutting out as she glares at you. If she’d had dog ears they would have been hanging like a scolded bitch’s. Oh wait. She is.

Wow, your brain is a real fucking nice guy today.

  
”Why! He’s really interesting, you know!”

The lanky singer blinks in confusion and looks between you and her.

”Wha?”

You sigh in irritation, gesturing towards the crazy woman currently wasting space and air on your sofa. You can fucking guess what that confused glance meant.

”I was talking to her, not you, you fucking beanstalk. You’re the poor bastard. It is you.”

You pause.

”I’ve spent too much time with John.”

Jade immediately perks up at the mention of her cousin, green eyes wide with excitement as she leans into your personal space. (A-fucking-gain)

”Did you know that he just came out to us a few days ago?”

Your eyebrows hide behind your mane of a hair.

”What? Seriously? John I-Am-Not-A-Homosexual Egbert?”

She nods enthusiastically, practically jumping in her seat. ”Yes! Him! He and Dave apparently got together!”

Okay, scratch your eyebrows hiding in your hair, they are now officially the only part of you that will ever achieve existing in heaven for even a small amount of time.

”Are you serious?! They’ve been skirting around each other for ages!”

”I know!!!”

What leaves your throat is much definitely not a squeal, and nor are you delighted to hear the news you are hearing. The word delighted isn’t even in your vocabulary. The only words that are in your vocabulary is an impressive amount of swearwords and insults. And romance. Lots and lots of great, cheesy romance terms.

You would rather rip open your own thorax than admit that, though.

You open your mouth to ask her more, but are interrupted by Gamzee draping himself over you, a shivering, pleading mess of limbs and hair. A sigh leaves your lips.

”What the fuck is it, Gamzee?”

”More people, Karbro, so many people, I-I can’t, I motherfucking can’t…”

You curse every decision you have ever done up until this point in your miserable life, then turn and give him a tight hug. He buries his face in your shoulder.

”Shh, it’s alright, you big baby. They’re my friends, alright? They won’t hurt you. Well, except Sollux if you say anything about his ridiculous fucking lisp, but other than that they’re all fine, okay? Breathe.”

He sniffles, shaking his head and clinging to your sweater. Heart-wrenching sobs rack his body, and oh god, he’s crying again and shit, fuck, what are you supposed to do? You pat his back and hair slowly, shooshing and rocking, and he continues to cling onto you like a drowning man to a log. You glare at Sollux, Jade and RoseKanaya when they give you knowing smirks, and fuck, you really hate these guys. Platonically. Forever.

”Hey, you’ve met these douchebags before. See? That’s Jade. Oh shit, wait, you’ve never met Jade before. Scratch that shit. Okay, Sollux, then. He’s the guy that hauled a cab for you. And that girl over there, with the short hair? You’ve already gotten close with her boobs, so you’re basically best friends by now. And Rose… Is Rose. The second, psychoanalyzing part of RoseKanaya.” you go silent, not really knowing what more to say. ”So, yeah.”

”Eloquent as always, Karkat.” Rose says with barely hidden amusement, ”But I think you will find that he is no longer listening to your ranting.”

You look down, just to find him breathing evenly against your shoulder. His head is heavy as shit, and he’s drooling all over your sweater, but at least he’s stopped crying. You smile briefly, tangling your fingers in his unruly hair. 

 

Maybe things can get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I do not at all need to finish like three assignments in two hours, not at all

**Author's Note:**

> I Am Starting To Get Concerned About My Mind, Seeing As I Like Making My Characters Suffer. Maybe This Is A Manifestation Of My Frustration About Being Legally Prevented To Apply Suffering To The Imbeciles I Find Myself Surrounded By On A Daily Basis?
> 
> Lol who knows
> 
> *furiously drawing on tablet* GaMkAr, MoThErFuCkErS


End file.
